75 Games: The Forgotten
by Gamemaker97
Summary: They say that history is written by the victors. That everyone remembers the winner's tale. But while this may be true, there is more than one story behind every Hunger Games. This is the story of the Hunger Games, from the eyes of those who entered the arena and never made it out. Follow-up community project to '75 Games, 75 Victors, 75 Oneshots'.
1. I Want To Be Alone

**A/N: Hi, and welcome to '75 Games: The Forgotten'! This story is a follow-up to my story, '75 Games, 75 Victors, 75 Oneshots'. For those of you who don't know, my first story told the tale of each of the 75 Hunger Games, with a chapter for each Games, told from the perspective of the victor each year. This story will also have 75 Chapters, one for each Games from the perspective of a tribute who didn't survive the Games.**

**I'd recommend reading the original story first, as they will give a first impression of each Hunger Games. This story is really meant to be filler material to pad out the Games in '75 Games, 75 Victors, 75 Oneshots', hopefully making them feel a little more real.**

**As with the original story, I'll be using songs on my iPod as inspiration for each chapter, and I'll be quoting the lyrics that inspired me and including the name of the song used in the chapter description below the author's notes.**

**Well, without further ado, let the Games begin!**

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**"Please don't think I'm crazy**

**I don't want you to understand**

**My mind is growing hazy**

**To hell with your helping hand**

**Why don't you just leave me alone**

**This conflict is my own."**

**- Billie-Joe Armstrong, 1989.**

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**The 1st Annual Hunger Games**

**Duroc Mulefoot (18), District 10 Male (places 2nd)**

**Green Day - I Want To Be Alone (1989)**

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"No, you need to leave," I insist, pointing my sword at Vanity, the girl from District 1.

She looks up from the point of my sword into my eyes, a look of desperation upon her face.

"I just offered to be your ally," she pleads, but I'm not having any of it. "Why are you doing this?"

"I want to work alone," I reply coldly, and it's true. I've been betrayed once already in these Games, and if it wasn't for sponsor support, I'd already be dead.

"Surely you'd benefit from me? I've already killed in the Games." I'm almost one hundred percent sure that the girl's lying. She's barely older than fourteen and hasn't got any muscle on her. The only way that she could have killed would have been through underhanded tactics, and I don't know if I'd want someone who can be deceptive about their abilities as ally.

"So have I," I snap, pushing the side of my blade into her cheek. "I'll do it again if you don't leave me be."

For the first time the girl seems to falter, unsure of whether to continue pressing me or take her leave. If I was her, I know which one I'd choose. For a few moments, she does neither, and then I see her hand reach down towards her belt, and I see the glint of metal for the first time.

It's a split-second decision to pull back the sword and swing for her neck, just as I did with the boy from District 6 at the horn-shaped structure that held all the supplies a week ago. However, unlike when I killed the boy from Six, the blade jars horribly as it strikes her neck and ends up lodged within the girl's body. I let go of the sword in horror as she drops to the floor, unable to form a scream within her broken vocal chords. I look down at her, horrified, watching her blood pour into the grass around her. I have to stand on her shoulders to wrench the sword from her body, only to bring it back down onto her for the final blow.

The cannon, which I have learned to associate with the death of a tribute (it just confused me and scared me for the first couple of days) rings out across the arena almost immediately. I almost feel sorry for the girl, as I would've let her live if she hadn't forced my hand. She approached me peacefully, so I would've let her go peacefully, too. But she tried to get one over me, so I killed her.

I've already learnt the hard way that alliances cause nothing but trouble in the arena. I'm happy to stay a loner for a week or two if it means I can see all of my family again and live a long, untroubled life. The Capitol has promised the victor of the Hunger Games everything as a reward for surviving the artificial warzone named the arena. I was wrong to think for even a moment that a temporary alliance with Fraser, the eighteen-year-old from District 4, would bring anything but suffering. It could have been a great partnership, with mutual benefit. I was proud of the idea at first, working together to save each other, breaking apart on equal terms with a few tributes left alive or staying together until a noble fight as the last two alive.

But he double-crossed me, and attacked me and left me for dead just ten minutes into the Hunger Games. Maybe such a place as the arena is not one for nobility and honour. This is a place for survivalists, opportunists and murderers. I don't see my actions as murder personally, but I suppose they could be interpreted that way. It's not murder if both sides are prepared to fight to the death. It's never called murder in war, is it, so why should the Hunger Games be any different? Anyway, I have no time to question my actions when a split-second decision can make the difference between life and death. And in a fight or flight situation, I've never been one to run. I'm not a coward.

If I want to question my actions, I'll have time to do that once I'm safe and sound back home in District 10. For now, I have to do what ever it takes to survive.

Which brings me back to my current situation. I'm armed with a longsword, possibly the best weapon I could ask for, considering my physical prowess. I have enough food and water to last me at least another three or four days. And if and when that runs out, I know that I have sponsor support from the Capitol to help me survive. They're the ones who keep sending me medicine and ointments for my injured shoulder.

The, which is nearly all grassland, suits me well. There's little unknowns in this landscape, which is at least one factor that is permanently on my side. The only other obstacles are the other four tributes that still stand between me and home. The girl from District 3 and the boys from Four, Seven and Twelve. I know that the one to watch will be Fraser, the boy from District 4, who scored the highest of all of us in training, having gained a ten. Part of me wants him to be eliminated by either the arena or the other tributes before I reach him myself, but part of me wants us two to be the last two alive.

Then, and only then, with the whole of Panem watching as it was seven days ago, will I be able to exact my revenge upon him in its entirety.

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**A/N: So, what does everyone think of the idea behind this? I know it's essentially a continuation of the original story, so I hope it's able to hold your interests with the alternate perspectives that will be shown throughout this story.**

**Also, this story is a community project, where anyone who was a fan of '75 Games, 75 Victors, 75 Oneshots' can write a few chapters of this story themselves. Details of how to get involved are available on my profile page :)**

**I look forward to seeing what you can all come up with, and I hope that you all continue to like this story :)**

**GM97 :)**


	2. Bodies

**A/N: Thanks to krikanalo for reviewing the first chapter! I appreciate the support :)**

**This chapter was sent in by mangesboy01. I hope you all enjoy it :)**

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**"Let the bodies hit the floor."**

**– Dave Williams, 2001**

* * *

**The 2****nd**** Annual Hunger Games**

**Tracy Madevilla (18), District 7 Female (placing 6****th****)**

**Drowning Pool - Bodies (2001)**

* * *

My lips crack as my tongue glides across my dry lips. My mouth fills with taste of blood; a vile and horrible taste. My head aches from the heat, and my vision out of my left eye is black, but that's not from the dehydration. It's from the girl from District 2. Our scuffle on the sixth day led to me puncturing my canteen, draining all my water, and her blackening my eye. In all, it was worth it. I got a kill. It wasn't an easy one, but nevertheless, it was a kill.

I've been wandering in search of a river for two days now. After my spill with the girl from District 2 I've had little to no water. I've made do with what little I can get from draining or eating plant roots, but now, I can finally feel the toll on my bones and muscles. Everything aches. And I know if I don't make it to a river soon, I'll be joining the girl from District 2 in a box back home.

I drag my feet though the muddy trail, doing my best to avoid the rising roots. My axe feels as though it weighs a ton and I so longingly want to discard it somewhere. I don't need it anymore. Who would dare challenge me? I was the tribute with the highest score: a nine. No one wants to run into me. They practically scamper away at the sight of me, like the pair from District 9 did a few days ago. Those two should've been bloodbaths. I was morbidly shocked to find out that the two weaklings are still alive and in the top eight at that. How, I'll more than likely never know. Dumb luck maybe?

Along with the pair from District 9 and myself, the other tributes still alive in the arena are the boys from Districts 2 and 4, the girl from Six and the boy from Districts 8 and 11. Though sadly, they won't be alive for long. I guess it isn't that sad, because I plan on hunting them all down. But first, I need to find water.

My body wobbles back and forth and I nearly crash to the floor. _Tracy_, I tell myself. _Stay strong. You are no weakling. _I force myself to stand still, and then grasp my knees, tucking my head in between my thighs. I breathe in and out, taking slow and steady breaths until the dizziness ceases.

Starting along the trail again, it doesn't take long for me to fall, but this time it's not from dizziness. It's because I've sunk into the mud. I cringe as mud slithers up my shins, toppling me into its brown fortress. The grime covers me from head to toe. I attempt to whip it from my arms and face, though it's no use. The vile liquid is in my mouth. All I taste is dirt. Dirt that's cool and wet to my tongue.

Wait.

Wet?

_There must be water around here_, I think. A river!

I spring up to my feet, a new energy surging through my chest. I dash forward, gripping my ax in one hand and bag in the other. Fleeing through the thick mud, water is the only thing on my mind.

The mud weighs me down, adding a few extra pounds to my already struggling body. I push through the pain: the aching of my joints and the tearing of my muscles. And leap further down the trail. I only stop when I hear the sloshing of water.

_You did it Tracy_, I praise myself. _You are no weakling._

Letting the water rush around my body, I submerge into it. I do my best not to swallow any as I go under. I was told in training that pond water carries amoeba and other deadly parasites.

The water touches my lips. The feeling is so inviting and I want so badly to inhale the cool liquid. But I don't.

I thrash my head from the water, grab my pack (should I say the girl from District 2's pack?) and dig though it hurriedly. Plucking a small silver canteen from one of the inner pocket; I violently dunk it into the water. But before I take a gulp of my silver lining, I drip a few drops of iodine and wait thirty minutes. Though I'm dying of thirst, if I'm not careful, this water could kill me.

When it seems like long enough, I drink the water, letting the cool liquid revive my dead tongue and parched throat. Never have I felt so relived and rejuvenated. I sigh with relief when I remove the empty can from my wet lips.

Now sitting on the bank, I listen. For a second, I forgot I was still in these Games. And I'm glad I stopped, because what I hear is something to rejoice for. Splashing. Heavy splashing, as though someone is wadding in the water upstream. Excitement blossoms in my chest at my new-found luck. Water and now another kill; these Games keep getting easier and easier, don't they?

I crouch into water, sliding my body into the reeds. I hold my muddy axe in my polished hand. I didn't want to wash it twice, so I've decided it wash it after I've killed this tribute. No need to wash off mud then blood, right?

Scrolling through the reeds I wonder who my victim will be. The boy from District 8? He seemed like an easy enough target. His frame was small and his skin pale, plus the poor kid had vibrant red hair. Talk about a stand out. Or maybe it will be the girl from District 6. She got a decent enough score, five was it? She would be a decent opponent. Then, the name comes. The boy I want it to be: Sargo, the boy from District 4. The one who acted all high and mighty until his district partner died in the Cornucopia. He'll be the one I'm hoping to see. And his arrogant mentor, Fraser, can watch. Giddiness instantly splashes inside me at the wicked thought. And who knows, maybe after this, I'll have the pleasure of shaking his hand.

I drift through the wadding weeds, growing closer to my prey. They won't see me until it's too late. _Perfect_, I purr.

As I get closer I recognize the tribute. It's Sargo, and he seems to be spear fishing. Not very smart is he? Making all that noise and attracting other tributes; what is he thinking? Maybe having Fraser isn't such an advantage after all. His "life-saving" advice clearly didn't help.

Seeing that Sargo has a spear in his hand makes me heart beat even faster. Maybe this could be a battle instead of slaughter. Maybe he'll put up another fight like the girl from District 2. Guess I'll just have to wait and see.

I stand from my spot of hiding and tighten my grip on my axe. I'm ready for this battle. Ready for his mentor to see his precious tribute die at the hands of me.

"Sargo," I muse. "Sargo, what are you doing my dear fish boy?"

He jumps from his deep concentration on the ripples and his gaze finds mine. His sea green eyes are wide with panic and his mouth twitches. Guess this won't be so fun after all.

Approaching closer, I realize how malnourished Sargo is. His shirt is off and his ribcage shines brightly though his sun kissed skin. That's why his out here making such a rakish. He's starving. I mean, look at him, he looks as though he hasn't eaten in days.

I go to step forward again, but the starving boy speaks, cutting my step short.

"Don't come any closer Tracy! I'm not afraid…afraid to kill you if I have to?"

"Alright," I say. "Show me."

I dash forward, my footsteps gliding upon the water. I see Sargo's panic, but he doesn't flee. _Great, less running for me,_ I think.

I get within ten feet of him and he hurls the spear through the air. I'm guessing it was supposed to impale me, but from his lack of arm strength it doesn't even reach me. _Poor kid_, I think. _He's even too weak to throw his own spear_. Thankfully, I'm not too weak to throw mine.

A smirk perches upon my lips as I hurl my axe through the air, letting the cool blade whistle through the piercing wind. Unlike Sargo's aim, mine is dead on. The axe impales into his chest and his body crashes into the water. His splash sounds in perfect harmony with his cannon.

I smile as I think that there are only seven tributes left. The odds are increasing day by day in my favor.

I prance over to Sargo's lifeless body and pry my ax from his chest cavity. The water around me turns red. _So much blood for one little guy_, I think as I see more blood spilling into the water.

I decide it's time to wash my axe, but before I dunk my precious gem into the water I hear something. I twig breaks. What was that? I glance over towards the small patch of woods to my left. My gaze is met my slicing sound. The sound of pure steel slicing through the air. I scream as the arrowhead finds my chest. Pain floods my body and I instantly bend over, cursing and screaming my lungs out.

"Coward!" I scream, blood running down my chin. "Come out and fight you cowar-"

Another piercing pain fells my chest and I see that another arrow has lodged itself inside me. I wrap my hands over the wound, trying to clot it. But it doesn't work. My blood spills into the water, colliding with that of Sargo's. I finally can't hold myself up any longer and I collapse into the river. The warm liquid of blood and water sloshes over me as my eyes fade and I sink into darkness.

Sinking, I hear a faint voice.

"Let the bodies hit the floor," it mutters. "Let the bodies hit the floor."

And with his words my body does hit the floor. The floor of the river.

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**A/N: If you enjoyed this chapter, please review! Constructive criticism is welcomed! If you want to get involved and submit a chapter for this story, then all the details are on my profile page :)**

**I look forward to reading any future chapters that are submitted :)**


	3. Breaking the Habit

**A/N: Thanks to krikanalo and Klicker'andKash for reviewing the first chapter! I appreciate the support :)**

**This chapter was sent in by RealFiction. I hope you all enjoy it :)**

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**"I don't know what's worth fighting for**

**Or why I have to scream**

**I don't know why I instigate**

**And say what I don't mean**

**I don't know how I got this way**

**I know it's not alright."**

**– Chester Bennington, 2003.**

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**The 3rd Annual Hunger Games**

**Tristan Falcon (17), District 5 Male (placing 6th)**

**Linkin Park - Breaking the Habit (2003)**

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Nothing lasts forever. The first time I heard this, I couldn't quite understand the meaning of the words. But things have changed since then.

I lost my brother in the war. I never thought about him not existing anymore, at least not until he was gone.

I got reaped. There was always a chance but then again I never really imagined it happening. Yet here I stand, freezing in the arena of the 3rd Annual Hunger Games.

Although I was one of the highest scorers, I hadn't expected to be in the final four. My ally, Arthur, is more experienced than me. He has a real mentor, one who won the Games. Fraser Reynolds. I would say Arthur is the strongest among us and I should consider myself lucky to be his ally.

"Tristan?" It's Arthur talking as always in his arrogant way, like he's the one who has control over everything. I realise I wasn't listening to what he was saying.

"Yes?" I ask him quietly.

"What do you think about it? I think it's in both our interests if the alliances split," he says. Only four of us remain - Arthur, Augustus, Lucia and myself - with the tributes of District 2 allied against us. Arthur is right. It would be a nobler and safer way if break all the alliances.

What Arthur doesn't think about or simply doesn't know is that I'm the weakest of us four which means I'll be the first one to die in a fair fight. On the other hand, I can't just disagree with Arthur. He'd probably just decide that I'm too dangerous and try to kill me straightaway. And that's definitely not in my interest.

"If you have a plan to force them to break their alliance as well, then I'm in."

"Oh, don't worry," Arthur says with a cruel smile. "I've thought this out."

This doesn't calm me down in any way but I just nod. Better let him do the job and just hide somewhere. Since last night, I can't move my fingers on my right hand. In the night they froze and even warming them up didn't help much. Luckily I'm left-handed, so I hold my spear - the weapon with which I'm best - on my left side. I have a knife in my belt as well, but for now I don't plan on using it. Not as long as I have my spear.

Arthur is sure that Augustus and Lucia are returning to the cornucopia, in need of more firewood. Soon we see the dark figures approaching us. The girl is armed with a bow and has already placed an arrow ready to shoot. Augustus is armed with a sword just as Arthur is. I hold the spear tighter, ready to throw. They have noticed us.

"Now, you stay here and watch out," Arthur says, pointing to the golden horn of the cornucopia which is surrounded by a frozen lake. "I'll have a talk with Augustus. At the moment when you see us shake hands, you're on your own."

"Right," I say, trying not to sound very nervous. Arthur stares at me one last time and also smiles for a second before his face hardens. Then he walks slowly towards Augustus, who looks confused as Arthur puts his sword in his belt and calls "Don't shoot. I'm here to talk, not fight." His words don't impress Lucia, the girl from District 2, very much. After what seems like forever, Augustus finally sheaths his sword and commands Lucia not to shoot.

He walks slowly towards my soon-to-be former ally. They meet somewhere in the middle of the space between me and Lucia. I can't really hear what they are saying as they are almost whispering. Instead of that I concentrate on Lucia, who doesn't seem happy with the conversation between the two males.

I can't blame her. It almost looks as though they're allying against us. I keep my eyes on her. If she shoots Arthur then I'll be left alone against two. But someone has to kill Arthur, and I don't want to be that person.

I see Lucia raising her bow towards my ally. I can stop her. I can throw my spear. I wouldn't miss. I know it. Arthur and Augustus still haven't shaken hands. That means Arthur and I are still allies. But something stops me and I just stand still letting everything happen.

I watch as Arthur and Augustus shake hands.

I watch as Lucia shoots her arrow, guiding it into Arthur's temple.

I watch as he slowly falls down and Augustus looks around, shocked.

It's my chance. Augustus is still confused and doesn't pay much attention to me, so I throw my spear at him, well-aimed. I would have reached and probably killed him if he didn't notice it as the last second and have reflexes quick enough to duck under it.

I missed. I need another weapon. My knife! Arthur's cannon booms but I don't care that much that my former ally is dead. I quickly put my right hand at my belt before I remember my frozen fingers. I pull out the knife with my left hand and at the moment I raise my head to see where the other two are, I feel an incredible pain in my chest and see an arrow that sticks out of my chest.

I let the knife fall, hearing it clatter against the ice. I stumble and fall onto the icy ground. Hot blood comes out of my chest, which contrasts strongly with the rest of my body, which is freezing.

Nothing lasts forever. I entered the arena side by side with twenty-three others. I know perfectly well that only one comes out and that the odds are pretty much against me.

I know that today is the final fight and that odd are I'm not coming home.

I knew all this but it is still a big shock when I see the end coming. When I _know_ the end's coming.

I failed. District 5 won't have its first victor this year. My mother will lose another son to the Capitol.

I never thought of death as non-existent anymore. I thought of it more as the light that takes you back home when you simply don't have the strength to fight for it yourself. Or just don't know if it's worth it.

Maybe I'll meet my brother again, who knows.

A snowflake falls on my right cheek and mixes with another drop.

I can't tell if it's a drop of blood or a tear, but it's so nice and warm.

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**A/N: If you enjoyed this chapter, please review! Constructive criticism is welcomed :)**


	4. The Scientist

**A/N: Thanks to mangesboy01 for reviewing the last chapter! :)**

**Somewhat coincidentally, this oneshot was sent in by mangesboy01. I hope you all enjoy today's chapter :)**

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**"It's such a shame for us to part."**

**- Chris Martin, 2002.**

* * *

**The 4th Annual Hunger Games**

**Dione Orabel (17), District 4 Female (placing 4th)**

**Coldplay - The Scientist (2002)**

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The bloodbath was utter chaos, which Fraser prepared us for. His words still sing in my head as though I just heard them a few minutes ago rather than days. _The cornucopia will be in turmoil, Dione and Lach. So watch your backs and more importantly trust no one._

Four days of trailing behind the others has made the last line of advice flash in front of my eyes constantly, like shooting stars in the night sky. Our alliance with Boian and Camilla, the two tributes from District 2, was arranged by our mentors Fraser and Augustus. Sure it was a bit shaky at the beginning, but that was to be expected. This year was first year of the alliance between the Districts 2 and 4, of course it would have its bump at the start.

For the past four days, our alliance has worked well together. Taking down any tributes we catch in the marshes or the plains. Its day four and we're already down to twelve remaining tributes; eight others besides Camila, Boian, Lach and I. I'm unsure as to who all is left though. The boy from Ten I know. His face is one I won't forget. The way it contorted with disguise as he pulled a knife out of the girl from District 3's back.

It was Lach who killed her. _He didn't earn that eleven in training for his dashing looks_, I tell myself. And with such a high score as an eleven came a huge target on my district partners back. He was the greatest threat in these Games. Even I would rather face off against Camila or Boian rather than Lach. At least I scored the same as them: a nine. Overall, I would be an even battle.

As we tread along the marsh, my feet sink into the soft, mucky sand. I hear Camilla and Boian whispering so decide to slow down my pace. Lach is already too far ahead to hear. He's the one leading us through this marsh day and night. Can't he take a break? I know he's the so-called designated leader of this alliance. But, I sigh as my jealousy rages inside of me, taking over my current thoughts.

I've tried day and night to stand in my own spotlight, but all I ever tend to see is Lach's shadow. He outshined me in the reapings, training, the private session, and scores. The only time my spotlight came was at the interviews, and it wasn't because I said intelligent words or came across as intimidating. It was because my dress was so translucent that there was nothing left for the imagination. Nothing.

My stylists said Fraser agreed with the idea, said it would help with my image. What image? Being known as the girl with no morals? All I know is that no tribute before me had worn such a revealing dress. Plus, it wasn't like my cascading blonde hair could hide my nakedness, as my stylists constricted it up into a bun. He said he didn't want my beautiful locks stealing any attention away from his masterpiece. Since when do you call a thin bed sheet a masterpiece?

That night I was known as the girl who waited to show her assets at the interview rather than the private session. The label still sticks today. I know so by the way Boian's eyes scan me. As if hoping my training outfit will just magically appear as thin as my gown the night of the interviews. I'll never live that day down. Never.

Though, sadly the interview wasn't the worst part. The worst was the encounter that came after. An encounter with my mentor Fraser. The moment still bleeds in my mind, turning all my innocent thoughts red.

_"Why did you make me wear that?" I scream, my voice cracking through the tears. My eyeliner has smeared and it now runs down my face in thick, black globs._

_"It will all make sense later," says Fraser coolly._

_"How…how the hell does it make sense Fraser?"_

_"When you come back I'll tell you, deal?" says Fraser, his hand extending._

_"No, you'll tell me now!" I insist, slapping away his hand. Anger now surging up in my chest. "Why do you insist on making me look like a fool and Lach a god! Why are you screwing over my chances to win?"_

_"I didn't make you look like a fool Dione," he says softly, "You just have different skills than Lach."_

_"And what skill might that be!" I glare at him, through the black lumps of makeup. I imagine I look like a mess. I babbling lunatic._

_"You have guile."_

_"Guile?" I ask, confusedly, though my voice softens a little._

_"Yes, every woman possesses it," Fraser states. "It is sharper than any knife. And you Dione can use that knife to gouge your way to victory."_

_"How?" I ask. "How do I use this so called guile as a weapon?"_

_"Now, I can't tell you that Dione," he chuckles. "I am no woman."_

I snap out of the memory and back into the arena. Just in time to catch Camilla's cynical words. "It's such a shame for us to part," she laughs.

I duck, just barely missing her swing. She wields in her hand a sword. I look around for Bioan who seems to have vanished. Where did he go?

Camilla charges again, but I parry her predicted attack, dodging her heavy but sloppy swing_. To have scored a nine in training, she doesn't have great form,_ I think.

Camilla lunges again, but his time as she does, I swing the butt of my spear; it connects with the side of her face, sending her into the marsh. I hear her howl in pain as she flops around like a fish out of water.

I get ready for the next attack, turning my head left and right, remembering Camilla's burley district partner. _Where is Bioan? _I think. He could've gone far? Could he? Then as if on cue, I hear Bioan's scream followed by a canon. By the way it sounds, he must have attacked Lach. And it looks as though his plan backfired.

The brutal force knocks me to the ground; there I glance into the savage eyes of Camilla. Her eyes no longer look human, more so like a ragging beast. _She's gone primal_, I think.

"It really is a shame for us to part," says Camilla once more, her voice still laced with the same sarcasm as before.

"Any last words bed sheet," she hisses, a grin twisting across her face. I smirk when I see her red cheek. Looks like I left a mark on that pretty face of hers. Good.

Then the thought hits me._ Guile_. I have to be guile. Use the skill Fraser told me I process. And thinking back, I know exactly how to do it.

Today, I shall kill two birds with one stone.

I scream to the top of my lungs and they fill as though they're going to burst into a million pieces from the strained pressure. "Lach!" I exhale, my voice showing the damsel in distress tone I'm looking for. "Lach!" I scream again. If this works, I'll finally get my spotlight. If it doesn't, then my canon will soon be joining that of Bioan's.

"Shut up," growls Camilla as she sends a blow to my jaw. I feel dizzy from the brute force and the pain causes me to wince. But I can't stop. This is my moment and I refuse to be out shined.

"Lach!" I cry again, this time my voice cuts off as Camilla plummets her fist into my throat. I gasp for air, my throat curdling with blood.

"I'm tired of these charades," she growls, "It's time for you to di-"

Camilla's eyes flutter and I see a trickle of blood escape her lips. Within a few moments her limp body slides off of mine and crashes to the ground. A canon soon erupting after.

I glance at her body and notice the knife protruding from the back of her head. _He saved me_, I think. _Perfect._

I quickly tug the knife from Camilla's skull, sneaking it into my shirt sleeve. Now is the time for me to put my deceitful skill to the test. The moment to Fraser what being _guile_ really is.

Lach runs up to my battered body, panting heavily. His brow is covered with sweat and his nose bleeding. It looks as though he didn't escape his battle with Boian so easily either.

"Dione, are you ok?" he asks. "Did she cut you? Are you hurt?" His voice sounds so genuine, but I know it is false tone. He is just playing the game like everyone else. Just like Camilla and Boian.

"I'm fine," I muse. "Much better that you're here." My seductive words stroke his ego just like I planned. I wonder if Fraser is impressed by the how easy guile slips from my lips. Maybe this is a skill worth showing after all.

Lach lifts me from the ground, gently. I wince in pain as his muscular arms wrap firmly around me. I feel as though he is my protector and for a second, I feel guilty for what I'm about to do. But then I remember the spotlight he stole. My spotlight. "Him and his stupid eleven," I mutter.

"Huh?"

At the sound of Lach's words, I quickly slide the knife into my palm and plunge it deeply into his neck. Blood gushes onto my hand and Lach's screams match mine as we tumble into the marsh. It's only ironic that my body lands on top of his in such a seductive manner.

Staring into his cobalt eyes, I see his fear. He wasn't expecting my betrayal. But what did he expect? Me to just stand and wait in his shadow. Wait until the final two for him to kill me? This is the Hunger Games. And all is fair within this arena.

I purse my lips and bring them down to his ear. "It's such a shame for us to part," I purr, my voice mimicking that of Camilla's, and plunging the knife deeper into his neck. I hear a slight moan and wait for his canon to sound.

BOOM!

After sliding my hand down his breathless chest, I finally lift myself up to my aching feet. But before I head back down in search of more tributes. I turn around and give a wink to the camera. The wink is directed toward Fraser. My lovely mentor.

_How's that for guile,_ I think, as I turn and skip down the trail heading into the muddy marsh. I will do the rest of the hunting on my own, being the last Career and all. The words bring a smile to my lips and fulfillment to my heart.

_Looks like I got my spotlight after all._

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**A/N: If you enjoyed this chapter, please review! Constructive criticism is welcomed :)**


	5. Numb

**A/N: Thanks to MJElliot, koryandrs, PrincessLyoka and RealFiction for reviewing! I appreciate the support :)**

**This chapter's had quite a lot of work done on it to adapt it (it was originally written for the 6th Games), so I guess it's a collaborative effort between myself and PrincessLyoka, although the ideas behind it are all from PrincessLyoka's mind, and not my own.**

**I hope that you all enjoy the chapter :)**

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**"And I know**

**I may end up failing too.**

**But I know**

**You were just like me**

**With someone disappointed in you."**

**- Chester Bennington, 2003.**

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**The 5th Annual Hunger Games**

**Nirvinia Chos (13), District 12 Female (placing 13th)**

**Linkin Park - Numb (2003)**

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_Bad leg, bad leg…_

The words repeat over and over in my head.

_Bad leg, bad leg…_

I trip over a fallen log… again. How clumsy am I!

_Bad leg, bad leg…_

I hate the Hunger Games. Everyone does. I want them to end. My family want them to end. My whole district. But the fact of the matter is that the Games are here, and I must become a player myself.

_Bad leg, bad leg..._

I must be the clumsiest person alive. That's what they thought, when our district's escort called out "Nirvinia Chos" on reaping day. Already hope was lost for me as I tripped up the stairs to the stage.

_Bad leg, bad leg…_

I nearly fell off my chariot. I almost got killed in training - my District Partner, Remmy, said to stay away from sharp objects. I didn't listen; I wasn't going to die without a fight, even though I'd lose the fight in two seconds. Remmy did during the bloodbath - one of the "Careers" threw a knife into his neck. He's one of the eleven for whom the Hunger Games are already over.

_Bad leg, bad leg…_

I ran from the bloodbath, grabbing a small backpack that contained enough food to keep me going for three days. But on the second morning in the arena, I fell out the tree I managed to climb up in the woodland far beyond the edge of the town where we began the Games. I twisted my ankle in the fall, and I've been limping ever since.

_Bad leg, bad leg…_

It's that thought that bothers me now as every step makes my foot flinch. I abandon my stick crutch and crawl through the arena. _Why didn't I think of that before?_ Now Nirvinia Chos is not only clumsy but stupid too. Nobody ever thought of sponsoring after I pulled a two in training. I was better than I thought it would be - I expected a zero, even though it's not possible. Maybe the Gamemakers were feeling sentimental by the time that they got round to me. At the interviews I tried my best to sparkle, but I was as dull as coal dust.

I stop thinking about my bad leg and try to concentrate on the most important thing at the moment; to survive for as long as I can. My food is just about gone. My only weapon is my backpack. I have filled it with rocks and twigs, making it heavy enough to deal some serious damage to another tribute if I can swing it at their head. Its weight is both a blessing and a curse, though, as its protection leaves me with a burden to carry through the arena, slowing my already dire pace even further.

Night has begun to fall when I become exhausted. I drink the last of my water and eat my meagre supply of food. I lean against a tree and look at the sky. I heard three cannons today, so I'm not surprised to see three faces when the anthem booms though the arena. The girl from District 1 and both from Seven. Just thirteen of us left.

Bored and cold, I look around the tree, hoping it's hollow. On the far side of it is a hole I can just fit through - I'm that small - and there's enough room for my legs to dangle out. I'm pulling myself in when I feel cloth under my fingers. Looking down, I'm met with a surprise.

A pack. When I open it, I smile. There's food! Bunches of blackberries and some strips of jerky. A few knives and a half full bottle of water. There's even a sleeping bag rolled up neatly and a first aid kit. However, it's useless to me, containing nothing that will aid my leg except for a few painkillers.

I put the supplies into my own pack, use the discovered pack as a pillow, and feast while I roast in the sleeping bag. I spare some blackberries and strips of jerky, and fall asleep soundly in the tree, thinking I may have a chance after all.

When I wake in the morning, I no longer feel alone. As though someone is watching me. I pull myself into a ball but everything below my knees hang out of the tight space in which I slept. I clutch a couple knives with one hand and place a third in the other, ready to do whatever it takes to survive. I've never killed before and I don't plan on doing so unless it's absolutely necessary for my survival.

I drink some of my water and creep out out my tree. Chewing on a strip of jerky, I look around the area. Nothing but trees, grass, and brush.

Then suddenly I detect movement. Behind one tree, a pair of nervous eyes peer at me. Its a boy, bigger than me, from District 6. I don't see his pack or anything else of him, just the glint of a dagger and the shiny reflection of the pale sun in his eyes.

Fear shoots through me. This was most likely his camp, and he had left it unguarded, confident in his ability to store supplies discreetly. Now he's returned and found an intruder, who I'm sure he plans to kill to get his supplies back.

The boy steps forward and approaches me, towering over me since I'm on my knees. I can only stand on one leg and I point my knife at him timidly. He mirrors the gesture with his dagger, and I can already see who will win the upcoming confrontation. The way that he moves towards me shows that he has no injuries; nothing to hold him back. Even without my current knocks and injuries, I'd be heavily on the back foot in a fair fight. I can't see a way of getting out of this. I'm going to die.

Not without a fight, at least. I lunge at him but he moves out the way nimbly. My leg hurts more than ever when I collapse to the ground, losing my balance as I turn. Somehow, I can tell that I won't be able to get myself back up. I turn myself onto my back, if only to give the boy a clearer shot; to help him end the suffering as quickly as possible when the time comes. The agony I endure when the boy makes his move is even worse than I had imagined possible, and I consumes my mind and body completely as I slip out of this life forever.

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**A/N: If you enjoyed this chapter, please review! Constructive criticism is welcomed! :)**


	6. Demons

**A/N: Thanks to mangesboy01 for reviewing the last chapter! :)**

**This one was written by MJElliot. I hope that you all enjoy it :)**

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**"Don't get too close**

**It's dark inside**

**It's where my demons hide**

**It's where my demons hide"**

**- Dan Reynolds, 2012.**

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**The 6th Annual Hunger Games**

**Zircon Latch (15), District 1 Male (placing 15th)**

**Imagine Dragons - Demons (2012)**

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The glass tube closes around me and I'm suddenly shrouded in overbearing silence. For a few moments I feel suspended in time. On the other side of the glass, my stylist Lorena stares at me with wide emerald green eyes. We share the same tall, slender figure, the same light brown hair. She's also not much older than me. Judging solely by our looks we could be related. Maybe that's why she is the only stylist that treated her tribute like a human being. She was the one that insisted to stay with me until the games began. We didn't speak, just held hands—mine big, rough from years of rebuilding my district and clammy from fear of an imminent death; hers small, soft and warm from years of living in heated apartments and always having enough to eat.

For a few moments our eyes lock, and I am flooded by a green sea of sadness. I see her lips moving but no sound passes through the glass wall that is trapping me inside a tube of despair. I can't allow myself to break down now, not seconds before I will appear in front of the whole nation.

A slight jolt snaps me back to reality and the metal plate underneath my feet starts to slowly rise towards a newly opened whole above my head. Bright light comes in through the opening and I realize I can no longer see anything of the poorly lit room outside of my glass cylinder.

This is it. I raise my chin up and brace myself for what is to come. I lock my muscles in place to stop myself from shaking but my breath becomes more erratic and my heart struggles to keep up an infernal rhythm—it's like it knows it might be still soon and tries to make up for a lifetime of lost thuds.

I focus my eyes on the light above, trying to force my eyes to adjust to it faster. I have sixty seconds to get my bearings and come up with an appropriate escape plan, so the faster I can see my surroundings, the better my chances are of living to see another day.

Last year the arena was a town, not very different from the one I come from. That, I could have worked with… Since my district is closest to the Capitol, it suffered a lot of damage in the uprising. Most of its citizens had to work to rebuild everything brick by brick and I was no different. As children we used to play hide and seek among the ruins. I lived among the fallen walls of District 1; I hunted rats that made their dwelling beneath the ruble of former factories and living quarters, I gathered berries and roots of plants that found the will to grow between the ruins. I worked for years in constructions, rebuilding people's houses and work places. I knew all there was to know about making do in the city. But I never once ventured into the wilderness. I am tall and well-built after years of mixing mortar, laying bricks and clearing out rocks and all sorts of debris, but I have never climbed a tree or fought a wild animal for food. So, as my head comes out through the opening, I realize I'm holding my breath in anticipation.

I can't help the wave of disappointment that washes over me when I finally take in my surroundings. We're in a large clearing in the middle of a thickly-wooded area. There is a spring coming out from under the cornucopia, flowing steadily towards a small pond near the woods on my right. I hope this isn't the only source of water in the arena; otherwise the Games won't last very long this year.

Topaz, my district partner, is three plates to my left. I can see her blinking rapidly to adjust to the sunlight. She's really short and slim, but what she lacks in stature she makes up in determination. We didn't know each other before the games and we haven't talked much since the reaping, but we did decide to ally ourselves; for the beginning, at least. She looks over at me and then glances over her shoulder, towards the woods. Our plan is to get our hands on the supplies closest to us and furthest from the cornucopia then run for cover. I look back towards the tributes but nod my head slightly, letting her know I got her message.

The tributes from Districts 2 and 4 already have their alliance in place and are currently sizing everybody up; I catch their glances lingering over me too long for it to be healthy and know beyond any doubt that I need to get out of here fast.

And then… the gong goes off and catches me unprepared. I lose the start and with it precious seconds that could mean the difference between life and death. Cursing myself I launch myself forward, hoping to reach the small, red back pack a few feet in front of me—it looks full and promising but the girl from five is faster and is already flinging it on her back. I decide to reach for the next best thing, a small, silver box that looks like a first aid kit; I just can't leave the cornucopia empty handed.

Just as I reach down towards my bounty, I see another pair of hands reaching for the box. My box! We both grab hold of it at the same time and try to pull if free out of the other one's hand. The box is made of some sort of metal and is slippery from the dew it sat in, so we both fumble, trying to grab a better hold. I finally manage to yank it from my opponent and look up just in time to see her big grey eyes roll in the back of her head. Her name is Lilly. She's from twelve - tall, skinny, with dark olive skin and dark, curly hair. She's also very dead, a hatchet sticking out of the back of her head.

A few hundred feet behind, the boy from seven throws another hatched my way. I duck without thinking, blood pulsing in my ears, in my stomach. The hatchet misses me by inches and embeds itself in the grass with an ominous thud. I blink a few times trying to wrap my head around the fact that by some miracle I am still alive.

I have to move!

I roll forward picking up the hatchet on the way and start running as soon as I am vertical again. Topaz is nowhere in sight. I don't have time to search for her body in the grass. I won't do it. She _has_ to be alive.

I run towards the woods, trying to block out the screaming, the pleading, the sickening thuds and cracks of death claiming her tributes. I don't want to acknowledge the grass turning red around me with the blood of innocents. The rusty smell is everywhere, salty and thick, making my tongue roll back on itself and my stomach heave. I swallow back bile and blink the tears from my eyes, forcing my muscles to go faster, to get me out of this nightmare.

The forest is within reach now, just a few more feet and I will be out of sight, safe from the carnage I'm trying to leave behind. But just as I am about to take the last few steps to my safe haven I feel another body slamming into me from my right. Someone must have followed me. The thought fills me with terror.

There's no time to think. Just act.

I swing my hatchet with all the force I can muster and hit my target blindly. The sharp blade sinks itself with too much ease in my opponent chest. I'm still holding the end of the weapon waiting for a shriek of pain, a cry for help, a sign of opposition, anything to attest to the fact that I just killed a person.

My body registers it before my mind does—something's wrong. The height, the build, the color of the fragile hands grabbing the metal blade sticking out of a tiny torso—they're all wrong. _I_ was wrong. It wasn't a career who hit me. It was just a little boy. He wears glasses, which are now sitting askew and cracked on the tip of his nose. He can't be more than twelve.

His legs give out and he slowly slides down to his knees, dragging the hatchet and me along with him. His eyes, now rimmed with red, lock with mine, and a single tear rolls down his childish cheek, smeared with blood and dirt.

My mind is blank. My cheeks are burning, yet my heart seems to forget how to work. I can't breathe and somewhere in the back of my head a tiny voice is wailing louder and louder. _Murderer_!

We seem to be frozen in this moment forever—me drowning in guilt and tears, him drowning in his own blood, until his dead body slides from my blade and lands silently on a bed of moss and leaves. Even in death his eyes are open wide, staring without seeing at the lush canopy above. Even in death his eyes speak of innocence and sadness, they speak of loss and…accusation. And the voice in my head is screaming at the top of its lungs

"_Murderer! Killler! Criminal!"_

All of the sudden all my pain and sorry turn to anger.

It wasn't _me_ who ran into him.

Why did he have to come after me? Maybe he was the one who tried to kill me.

Maybe _he_ was the killer, the murderer; only I acted faster…I bet he even has a weapon hidden somewhere in his clothes. I search his pockets, I pull at his clothes, I reach under his still warm body but I find nothing. Instead my hands get coated in blood. It's too red, too shiny. It doesn't look real. I am mesmerized by the way my hands look in the sunlight filtering through the leaves, while the voice becomes increasingly shrill.

"_Murderer! Killer! You've got innocent blood on your hands!"_

"NO!" I realize I said it out loud, so I cover my mouth with my hands. Who knows who is lurking around trying to spill _my_ blood?

Now I've spread the viscous liquid over my face too. It doesn't smell like blood either. What if he isn't dead? I remember my hatched encountered almost no resistance when it hit him.

I turn back to the little boy. He hasn't moved. But now he looks like he is sneering at me. I bend over and give him a good shake. His eyes are glazed over, inert, but I know he is just pretending. I am NOT a killer. You hear that? The voice just gives out a high pitched laugh. It hurts my ears, so I shake my head covering my ears. Stop it. You're annoying!

"_And you're still a murderer, covered in blood!_"

"Shut up, _Lilly_!" I've spoken aloud again but I don't care anymore. The voice just laughs harder and I can almost see it rolling its big, grey eyes at me. The peals of laughter bounce around inside my skull, from tree trunk to tree trunk, filing my entire world, until there is nothing to do but laugh along with it.

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**A/N: If you enjoyed this chapter, please review! Constructive criticism is welcomed :)**

**P.S. I know that updates have been relatively slow for this story, but I'm going to try and speed up in the coming days, as my original story, '75 Games, 75 Victors, 75 Oneshots' is drawing to a close. If you haven't yet checked it out, please feel free to :) It'll be worth your time :)**


	7. Bring Me to Life

**A/N: Thanks to PrincessLyoka for submitting this chapter!**

**I hope you all enjoy the chapter :)**

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**"Call my name and save me from the dark**

**(Wake me up)**

**Bid my blood to run**

**(I can't wake up)**

**Before I come undone**

**(Save me)**

**Save me from the nothing I've become."**

_**- **_**Amy Lee and Paul McCoy, 2003.**

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**The 7th Annual Hunger Games**

**Paylor Christon (14) District 6 Male (placing 8th)**

**Evanescence feat. Paul McCoy - Bring Me to Life (2003)**

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I've been stalking this boy from Seven - Dannet, I think his name was - all day. I noticed him when he stepped out of a tunnel, but luckily he didn't notice me. Since morning, I've been waiting for him to sleep, not wanting to lose track of him when night fell, and then strike. I've figured out it was easier to kill someone in their sleep, when they were oblivious to the fact that someone was shoving a spear through their abdomen. They won't even notice someone's behind them when I'm not wearing my shoes. After they're dead, I take their supplies, which has kept me alive for the past five days. I've done this strategy twice with the girl from Eleven and Three, especially the girl from Three. She killed Ruba.

I saw it all. I was running from the cornucopia when suddenly I remembered my district partner. Turning, I just saw a glint of Ruba's bright red hair fall with her body. The girl from Three was above her, a spear in hand with a red spearhead. Ruba's blood.

When she looked up from her kill, our eyes met. She realized what she had done. She saw it in my angry eyes.

She deserved to be punished. So when I found her a couple days ago, I stalked her like I was stalking Dannet now. When she slept, I took my spear and shoved it through her stomach. I said as her eyes popped open in surprise and pain, "That's for Ruba."

Me and Ruba weren't much of friends. We had grown up in the same neighborhood but didn't talk much to one another. But seeing her bleeding out, it threw me over the edge. I had to win for her. And right now, I had the option to get rid of the biggest enemy.

The two from District 12 are probably too worthless to worry about. Then there's the boy from District 5, girl from Nine, the five remaining Careers - both from Districts 1 and 4 plus the boy from Two - and Dannet, who's in my view. That's ten victims to get rid of. Maybe I'll search down and rid the Careers in their sleep. Or I'll let the Careers take care of the rest then finish them off later. Whatever its worth for the Capitol audience, I don't care. I just want to win for Ruba.

But right now I have prey. Like a leopard stalking a gazelle, so the phrase goes, whatever those two things are. Maybe they're mutts. District 10 would know, but they died in the bloodbath.

For a while, I stalked Dannet as we entered a tunnel. I was getting exhausted, hoping he would just lie down and sleep for a while, when I heard it. It sounded like an old wall falling. Turning my head, I saw the tunnel lights flickering as the wall fell and collapsed in on itself.

But not in front of me. Dannet had noticed it, and probably me too, but figured he better run for his light than fight the guy behind him.

We both ran until I was sure was forever. The lights darkened and lightened on and off like a flickering lightbulb, the ceiling of the tunnel caving in on itself.

Finally, Dannet and I stumbled into a clearing. The cornucopia. I back up once I see that the tunnel has stopped turning to rubble but is inescapable.

I'm thinking Dannet is turning to kill me now with his ax, but he seems preoccupied with something else. Someone else must be here. Instead, I peek and see the girl from 12 run into the clearing. Her district partner appears behind her, out of breath. His heavy breathing is the only sound, bouncing off the walls in utter silence.

Without warning, Dannet throws his ax at the girl. She ducked, but it sinks into her District Partner, his cry breaking the silence like a rock to a window. I feel bad for him as I back away, forgetting that there's no way out.

Dannet turns away from the two from Twelve and faces me. I may have the only weapon, but his strength has the upper hand here. I point the spearhead at Dannet, muttering, "Make your move."

He only looks at me. I realize that whoever makes the first move, I'm going to die. I can't fight anyone when they're awake. They're conscious, aware, able to deflect my attack. It only works when they're sleeping. Then I make them sleep forever.

Dannet charges at me just as a cannon fires. I'm thinking its the boy from Twelve just as I throw my spear. Surprisingly, Dannet catches it when he's a few yards away from me, turns the spear point at me, and shoves it through my stomach.

Dannet pulls it out as I crumble to the ground, gripping my stomach, getting my own blood all over my fingers from holding the wound. The pain is so unimaginable. Now I know how the girls from Three and Eleven felt as they died. And I feel guilty for being the cause of it.

I don't cry out. I don't scream in pain. I glare at Dannet as he removes my pack from me and stalks away. Leaving me to die right here. In the arena, of all places.

My face molds to sadness as the tears come from my face. My head becomes woozy from loss of blood. The pain in my stomach gets worse and worse and darkness starts to overcome me. I know I've failed. I won't win for Ruba. District 6 is out the Games. We've never won.

Its as if the pain engulfs me as I watch the last glimpse of life vanish into nothing but black.

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**A/N: If you enjoyed this chapter, please review! Constructive criticism is welcomed :)**


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